A Morning of Introductions
by TheSapphireSky
Summary: In which the morning after at Baker Street is filled with fluff, laughter, and coffee. A Sherlolly and Warstan, post-Uni au.


Molly woke with a happy groan as the sun streamed into the bedroom at 221b Baker Street. Stretching her arms, she turned her head to see Sherlock still deep asleep. His curls were wild and tangled from their activities the previous night (and early into the morning) and his expression was open and innocent.

Memorizing the sight of him, Molly felt her heart fill to burst. They'd been friends since their first year at Uni and, after five years of pining, he finally got his head out of his bum and made a move. She giggled at the memory of him just the night before fumbling over his words before she finally shut him up with a kiss.

A kiss which turned into so much more.

Unable to keep the smile from her face, she brushed her lips against his cheek before slipping from the bed and putting on her knickers and his shirt. She walked barefoot into the kitchen while buttoning up the purple shirt, smiling to herself all the while. She set about putting the coffee kettle on, humming happily.

'Oh!'

At the breathy exclamation, Molly spun around in surprise. A woman was standing in the doorway from the stairway, in an equal state of undress, a man's blue plaid button up her only covering. Her short blonde hair was disheveled and she still had a red mark on her cheek, most likely from where it had been pressed against a pillow. Or a person.

They stared at each other in shock.

'Morning,' Molly broke the silence with an awkward wave. 'I'm Molly.'

'Mary,' the blonde replied quietly. 'I'm a, um, _friend_ of John's.' She jabbed a thumb toward the stairs, which Molly now realised must lead to Sherlock's flatmate's rooms. A knowing smile lit up Mary's face and she flicked her gaze toward Sherlock's bedroom door. 'Had a good night?'

Molly flushed bright red and hurriedly turned back to the stove when the kettle whistled, tugging the hem of her shirt to better cover her bare legs. 'Would you some coffee?'

'Yes, please,' Mary answered gratefully and perched on a stool at the tall table, utterly unashamed of her casual state of dress. 'So, you're the girl who snagged the Virgin.'

'V-virgin?!' Molly sputtered and looked at the blonde over her shoulder in surprise.

Mary raised her eyebrows and her grin widened gleefully. 'Just a nickname. John says he's married to his work and all that rot and assumed he didn't go in for that sort of thing. Seems he was just waiting for the right girl.'

If possible, Molly blushed darker and picked up the cups. 'Waiting, my foot. Bloody idiot waited five years.'

'Oh, I like you,' Mary beamed at her as Molly handed her a cup.

oOo

Sherlock grimaced as the sun hit his face. His senses slowly began to wake up and he couldn't stop the smile that creased his face as he remembered the day (and night) before. With a contented sigh, he rolled over and reached out to pull Molly into his arms so they could have a bit of a lie-in. Only to find his bed empty.

He sat up and looked around, trying to locate the elusive pathologist. Her clothes were still on his floor. But his favourite aubergine shirt was missing.

He smirked. _Thief._

The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit him and he perked up. Seeking a cup of said coffee, and a kiss or two from the barista who made it, he garbed himself in his bedsheet and shuffled out into the kitchen.

'For future reference, I prefer to wake up _beside_ you…' His tease trailed off when he found his pathologist sitting at the kitchen table across from a blonde woman (nurse, several years older than himself, dressed in John's favourite plaid button-down, recently shagged… _ahh, the woman John has been mooning over for the past month. Marie, Mildred…Margie? Wait. Mary. Yes, that must be it_ ). They each cradled a cup of coffee and had stopped their chatting when he entered, turning to face him.

Molly bit her lip and blushed, hiding her smile behind her cup, but her eyes were saying things that made his heart skip a beat. Meanwhile, John's girl gave him a once-over and smiled knowingly. He cleared his throat and adjusted his sheet to make sure, er, _all_ of him was covered.

Before he could say anything else, John entered the kitchen from the stairwell. His hair was on end and he was tying the belt of his dressing gown, his eyes focused downward. 'Good morning, beautiful…' His rough, husky voice trailed off when he finally looked up, and noticed that it wasn't only Mary in the kitchen.

'Um, morning,' he greeted, blushing. He then looked between Sherlock and Molly. 'Did I miss something?'

'Always,' Sherlock grumbled under his breath. Molly sent him a brief glare.

Mary grinned cheekily. 'Just getting to know your flatmate's girlfriend, that's all.'

John gaped and pointed a finger between Sherlock and Molly, his mouth opening and closing but no words came out.

'Oh, do wipe that blubbering fish look off your face, John,' Sherlock snapped and stalked haughtily around the table to Molly and proceeded to greet her with a proper kiss. She had an appropriately dazed and happy grin on her face when he pulled away. 'If you'd stayed in bed, we could have avoided this whole situation.'

Molly giggled. 'And miss breakfast? I don't think so.'

'Speaking of which,' Mary interjected, a twinkle in her eye. 'Why don't you fellas cook us some breakfast while we finish our coffee in the lounge, hmm?' With that, she picked up her cup, gave John a quick kiss, and sashayed into the lounge and settled on the sofa.

Following her new friend's lead, Molly stood, tugging the shirt over her thighs and gave her boyfriend a kiss. 'I like my eggs scrambled, love.'

Sherlock gaped after her as she walked away and sat beside Mary. Immediately the two women put their heads together and resumed whatever giggling conversation they'd been having before he'd entered the kitchen.

John came to stand by his side, both of them wondering just what had happened.

'They're going to be trouble, aren't they?' John quipped with a wry smile.

Sherlock looked at his friend and gave him a knowing grin. 'Would we really want them any other way?'

John huffed a laugh. 'Absolutely not.' Slapping the taller man on the back, he turned toward the stove. 'Come on, I'll fry the bacon if you scramble the eggs.'


End file.
